


The Raptor Docility Project

by FestivalGrey



Category: Original Work
Genre: "let's bring back raptors. I'm sure they won't escape and fuck us senseless", (past 2 tags only in chapter 4), (past three tags in chapter 3 only), Aphrodisiacs, Bestiality, Breeding, Captivity, Cheating, Clones, Come Inflation, Cuckolding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dinosaurs, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, For Science!, Genetic Engineering, Genetically Engineered Beings, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Impregnation, Inflation, Intelligent raptors, Interspecies, Interspecies Sex, Multi, NOTE: first chapter is mainly setup, Partial Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Raptors, Scents & Smells, Science Fiction, Sex Pollen, Sex with Sentient Animals, Vaginal Sex, sexytimes will begin in future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestivalGrey/pseuds/FestivalGrey
Summary: The clandestine project's goal is to bring back raptors but also make them docile and fit for human companionship. The unanticipated side effects? They're incredibly horny, attracted to humans, and clever enough to stage an escape.You can probably expect what happens next, even if it takes the scientists by surprise.Written for a user on FA; ideas and characters are theirs. Multi-chapter fic; note that actual dinosaur sex isn't expected to begin until the second chapter! First is establishing the world and characters.
Relationships: Raptors/Humans
Comments: 52
Kudos: 379





	1. Part 1

Project Blueprint was as clandestine as clandestine got—no questions asked, no info in, no info out. The type of research they were working on was not the sort which the average person needed to know about. The fewer eyes and ears, the better.

But the lab wasn’t funded by an organization with bottomless pockets. Far from it, in fact. So when they were deciding on how much to spend on security versus equipment, the heads of Project Blueprint had come to the conclusion that less, in this case, was more.

Rather than a massive, sleek, chrome-walled base bristling with electrified razor wire fences and patrolled by hordes of scowling goons with vicious guard dogs, the area that Blueprint was based out of was innocuous. Six enormous but slightly run-down buildings which had been built decades ago, empty-looking and surrounded by a simple chain-link fence with a barbed-wire top and a lone guardsman were all they needed. The place gave off an aura of a factory or industrial center hit by economic woes, long since picked clean—not the place where any enterprising eyes or local hooligans would test themselves on. A network of cameras, fed by a hidden generator (complete with a backup), completed the event.

Alain Nellis—who usually just went by his last name—was the guardsman for the place. A bright-eyed man definitely getting along in years, he made up for his physical unimpressiveness with a shrewd head. He had a prosthetic leg and a matching false hand on one side of his body from being caught in a factory explosion some years back. He’d been able to retire from the compensation afforded to him from the accident, but as the years crawled on, the old man had realized how bored he was, so he’d found a sedate job mostly just to entertain him rather than anything. In the years he’d worked security for Project Blueprint, there had only been two security incidents, if you even wanted to call them that—a mean dog wandering onto the property one year, and a group of spray-painting teens playing hooky the next. In both cases, Nellis had chased them off pretty easily. But even beyond its slow-going nature, the best perk of his job was that he got to bring his dog.

Bells was a German Shepard; she was a few years old and both devoutly loyal and impeccably trained. She mostly dozed on the floor of the guard station, occasionally begging her master for treats, or rolled in the half-dry grass outside, her tongue lolling with delight; she always made sure to accompany her owner on his rounds, and though she wasn’t a violent dog, she knew how to stand her ground. Her sharp, fierce bark was a more effective deterrent than Nellis himself.

The day that the Incident occurred went like any other, at first. Nellis decided it was time for him to do a late afternoon patrol and, with Bells at his heels, the old coot made is rounds.

Despite his age and his lost limbs, Nellis was brisk for his age, and on his walks, he often found himself spurred on by his dog’s boundless energy. Bells would sometimes go tromping off, barking with delight at anything that caught her eye—a butterfly, a weed wavering in the air, the dappled light of the sun being covered by the clouds—though she would always return at the first whistle from her master. Today, she was happy to trot along in his shadow, her tongue lolling from her mouth and the tiny bell on her collar (which was where she got her name) jangling as she went.

Nellis trooped his way around all six buildings, finding exactly what he expected to find: nothing of note. Early on he’d alleviated his boredom by trying to fix up the place, but it turned out that was counterintuitive—Project Blueprint _preferred_ their buildings dilapidated and underwhelming.

As he finished his patrols, Nellis shook his head at the memory. Ah well. Thankfully, there were other ways to pass the time here than upkeep. Checking in on the cameras, just in case, he was satisfied—then, hitting a secret switch, he went down the revealed staircase to the _real_ lab.

The buildings above were decoys, designed to divert and distract. The real work all went on underground. Here, the sparse but well-maintained labs had everything necessary for work—bright lights, a sound system which the workers could use to easily communicate with each other and with Nellis, and security doors.

Nellis made his familiar way to the break room, greeting the woman he found there. “Hello, Fran!”

Fran glanced up, smiling at him. She was the project’s lead, an intelligent woman in her early thirties who had arrived straight out of a biology doctorate. She had olive skin and floofy, coal-black hair which she kept loose, and usually wore a lab coat over a crop top and matching capris.

“Nellis,” she said smoothly. “And Bells!” She bent, giving the German Shepard much-deserved praise and pets. Nellis had quickly befriended all of the staff workers, and Bells was everyone’s favorite. Even now, the German Shepard was delightedly luxuriating in Fran’s pets, her tail thumping against the floor.

Fran was a certified genius, and an effective leader—but her perfectionist tendencies could get the better of her sometimes, as could her paranoia about security. Nellis probably received at least one well-intentioned inquiry a month asking him to investigate “suspicious noises” which, more often than not, turned out to be creaky old pipes or a particularly loud-mouthed pigeon. The others on staff had whispered to him that Fran was boy-crazy, but her controlling tendencies and paranoia had driven away boyfriend after boyfriend.

As Nellis and Fran chatted good-naturedly, the door opened and another woman entered the break room: Sarah, Fran’s chief—and only—research assistant. About half a decade younger than Fran, she was a quiet, timid young woman with strawberry-blond hair which she kept in a long ponytail. She wore a lab coat in imitation of her boss (in fact, a lot of what Sarah did imitated Fran; the younger woman idolized her and wanted to emulate Fran’s success and confidence and way with men) but instead of a flirty crop top, she instead wore a modest, floral-print blouse over a knee-length, pale blue skirt.

As Nellis chatted with Sarah (Fran continuing to lavish attention on Bells), he reflected that Sarah was also extremely intelligent. A biologist like her boss, she played coy with her expertise, though over the years she’d let enough slip here and there for Nellis to deduce that it was based on genetics. Nellis chose not to pry any further than that.

As he walked away, his dog positively glowing from the attention she’d been given, Nellis thought once again how he didn’t know what, exactly, Fran and company were doing in the labs. He and Bells had never had cause to go that far in, and Fran had gently but firmly insisted that it was in his best interest that he not find out. He sometimes wondered if the workers he had gotten to be so friendly with here were up to something unethical.

In fact, he needn’t have worried at all. Project Blueprint wasn’t unethical—though it was, potentially, quite dangerous. Sarah was a geneticist, and Fran a cloner; together, they were working on bringing back raptors.

The true name of Project Blueprint was the Raptor Docility Project. Fran’s employers were adamant about bringing back dinosaurs, but with any danger posed to humans minimized. (They had, it seemed, learned their lessons from pop culture.)

With Nellis gone, Fran and Sarah turned the discussion to the dinos, only to be interrupted by the last person there—their freckled, slightly short intern, Zachary. (Almost everyone called him “Z”, for short.)

“Oh, um, hey Z,” Sarah stumbled over herself as he came in. “You just missed Nellis and Bells.”

His nose wrinkled with distaste. “Aw, man! I can’t believe it! I’ll just have to say hi on my way out.”

Fran folded her arms. “Z. Did you catalogue Sunny’s behavior today?”

“H-huh? I mean… I, uh, will! Soon!”

Z, a young man of about Sarah’s age, sat firmly at the bottom of the food chain. He was the lab’s errand boy—do this, run there, buy that. What was worse, he was often forgetful, and at times lazy, meaning that Fran typically ended up chewing him out—as it looked she was about to do right then.

Her sigh could have sheared iron. “The idea is to catalogue the raptors’ behavior after lunch. It’s almost _dinnertime,_ Zachary.”

He tried not to wince. She only used his real name over his nickname when she was truly ticked. “D-did I say soon? I meant, uh… right now!” He turned and headed for the enclosure, Fran’s lips thinning behind him and Sarah surveying him with sympathy.

Sarah knew that Fran didn’t _hate_ Z, far from it—in fact, she was quite fond of him. (After all, if she really disliked him, she could have just fired him.) She just wished he would get his act together. Sarah felt extra sympathy for Z because he’d broken up with his longtime girlfriend almost a year prior and had been heartsick ever since. Unlike his bosses, Z didn’t bother with traditional lab gear. Today, he wore a solid-color polo and simple cargo shorts. Sarah held a secret torch for him that was obvious to both Fran and Nellis; but between Z’s heartbrokenness and Sarah’s own insecurities with guys, it seemed a doomed attraction.

Z made his way to the enclosure, pulling out a notepad to catalogue Sunny’s behavior. Flipping open the viewing window, he observed the raptors.

There were four of them, two males and two females. They got along very well, coordinating their efforts. By some stroke of fate, all of them boasted a different color, and the lab had assigned them informal nicknames depending on their hue.

Sunny, the yellow raptor, was the “beta male” of the pack, for lack of a better term. He was a strong beast, but subordinate to Flame, the red male who indisputably led the pack. Their counterparts were Bluebell, the azure-scaled alpha female who was extremely crafty and intelligent, and the beta female, Pinky. (You could guess what color she was.)

Currently, Sunny was using a special device the lab had developed in order to help alleviate his… special concerns. You see, Fran and Sarah had reasoned that since most big animals that were docile towards humans were mammals (dogs, cattle, and so on) they might try splicing in some mammalian traits. The effect did end up with the raptors acting more docile—but they were also significantly smarter than any dinosaur had a right to be, doubtless poaching some brainpower from their mammalian predecessors. The mammalian influence was also probably responsible for the pack structure they displayed.

But there were other, unforeseen effects. Many of the raptors had quirks of a _sexual_ nature. Pinky, the beta female, was extremely sexually active, displaying herself frequently for both of the males in the pack as well as, to a mix of discomfort and amusement, Z himself whenever he interacted with them. Sarah, perhaps projecting some human qualities onto the dino, had even claimed that Pinky was a bit of a romantic.

Bluebell, in contrast, was in an almost constant state of heat and got wet super easily. Z and all of the scientists had observed that the juices she produced in that state seemed to have an effect on the other raptors, and Z privately thought that even being around them was something that made him dizzy and light-headed. Getting a sample was proving difficult—this had only recently manifested, and Bluebell’s extremely high intelligence made it hard for them to corner her while she was wet.

Sunny was physically the strongest of the four, but was constantly distracted with the fact that some quirk of genetics had made his internal testicles extremely overproductive. It wasn’t until the lab had built a special machine for him to rut (which they used to collect his seed) that he was able to find relief; he spent almost a full hour a day cumming into it. In fact, that was what was he was doing now.

As he marked down Sunny’s activity, Z took note of the final raptor, Flame, stalking about the enclosure. Curiously, Flame was the only raptor in which none of them had observed some sort of sexual quirk, which seemed odd considering it was present in the other three. Fran and Sarah had concluded that he had a hitherto-undiscovered quirk, and Z agreed with their suppositions. The main noteworthy thing about Flame was that he was the most aggressive of the raptors, but even that was explained by his alpha male position, and he was still significantly less aggressive than a normal one would be. The Docility Project was coming along nicely.

Glancing up from his notes, Z saw that Flame had noticed him watching through the window. The red raptor looked intrigued, right up until he saw that it was Z looking in; then he lost interest. All of the raptors had a favorite human; Pinky enjoyed presenting herself to Z, after all. But even by those standards, Flame (who seemed quite smart, if a little bit shy of Bluebell’s intellect) was downright obsessed with Fran. He always perked up when she was the one interacting with the raptors, and though he’d never tried to attack her, he often crowded her personal space and got right up to her. It seemed he’d momentarily thought his favorite human had been the one watching him.

“Sorry buddy,” Z said, though the raptors couldn’t hear him through the soundproof glass. “Not today.” As he shut the window shutter and walked back to Fran and Sarah, he idly wondered what, exactly, was Flame’s obsession with the head scientist.

In fact, though neither Z nor any of them knew it, they would all find out very, very soon.

As dusk meandered its way into evening, a nighttime repair crew settled into a power plant a few blocks away. As they worked, a small accident resulted in a loss of power for the surrounding blocks—including the lab space utilized by Project Blueprint.

Of course, the lab had a backup generator present for such an event. But when they’d first set it up, some worker had gotten their wires crossed. The backup worked just fine for the ground-level buildings and the camera system utilized by Nellis, but the lab itself was off the backup’s grid. So when the accident at the power plant happened a few hours after Z checked on Sunny, the entire subterranean facility was plunged into darkness.

Later on, when she learned what had happened there and its cause, Fran felt righteously vindicated that what had befallen her and her team was in no way their fault. They hadn’t made any mistakes at all; they weren’t responsible.

But that was for later. On the night the power fell, the scientists found themselves trapped in an underground bunker with a group of highly intelligent, genetically modified raptors—raptors whose predatory nature had been made “docile” by replacing it with a massively increased sex drive, and who were obsessed with the humans who were all they knew in the world.

And with the opportunity afforded by the blackout, the cunning intellects of Flame and Bluebell were ready to make their move and seize their prizes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scientists, plunged into darkness, make some foolhardy choices, and the raptors make their move...

Shortly before all hell broke loose, Fran and her crew were deciding on what to give the raptors for their meals the following week.

“It can’t be chicken,” Fran said, rapping her knuckles on the board for emphasis. “They _hate_ chicken, almost never finish their meals.”

“I don’t get why,” Z complained from his spot near the wall. “They’re carnivores, right? They should _love_ fresh meat!”

“I mean, humans are carnivores…” Sarah cut in, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “But I still like certain kinds of meet better than others.”

“Besides,” Fran said, rolling her eyes, “we all know you just don’t want to have to buy anything you can’t easily get at a supermarket, Z.”

“Hey! As resident gofer, I think I deserve some input what I’m gofer-ing _for!_ ”

Fran scoffed, ignoring him. “Regardless, our current options are a whole pig or several large chunks of beef.”

Z piped up again. “I vote the beef!”

“ _Or,_ ” Fran said, talking over him, “a deer, preferably a live one to sate their predatorial instincts. Plus the cranberries they love as dessert. Though it might—”

Any further discussion was cut off with a sudden hum and blinking of lights. The crew stood, dumbfounded, standing in shock as the lights flickered—flickered again—and then, suddenly, the whole facility was plunged into pure blackness with a final, coughing whirr.

“It’s allllllllll right,” Z said with forced casualness. “We have a backup, so it’ll kick in any second now.” Seconds stretched on. “Any—any second now…”

Sarah, who had been shuffling about in a muted panic, started gulping down breaths as she hyperventilated. “It’s pure blackness! We’re gonna—w-we’re gonna—”

“Stay calm, Sarah.” Fran took control of the situation, as always. “I’ve got this.” Fumbling by touch, she made her way to the wall near the door, where a wall-mounted radio connected to security outside. “Alain. Alain! Come in!”

“Looks like even the radio got cut,” Z mumbled. His bravado was gone, and it seemed panic was setting in for him too.

“ _Enough,_ ” Fran stressed. “Z, you should be near the emergency station in the wall. Unhook it.” There was the clanking of metal as Z followed her orders, and then Fran and Sarah flinched as he snapped on a heavy-duty flashlight, one of the huge ones that illuminated construction sites at night and took two hands to wield.

The station behind him included everything the lab would need in an emergency: three more flashlights, a pair of dart guns with a manual (though everyone was already trained), and a large medical kit. There was also a single, high-powered rifle, just in case the raptors were escaping and truly going rogue.

Part of her warned that she should grab the rifle immediately, but she talked herself down. “The raptors should be trapped in their room just like us,” she reasoned. “The dart guns should be more than sufficient.” The serum coating the darts had been chemically calibrated to the raptors’s genetics to put them down instantly.

“Z, give Sarah the flashlight,” Fran ordered confidently, striding over to the station. She picked up one of the dart guns, weighing it in her hands. “Then, grab one of these.” There was a clunking sound as the flashlight traded hands, then Z followed his boss’s lead, picking up the other dart gun.

The illumination shook in Sarah’s trembling grasp, and Fran leaned over, giving her coworker a reassuring pat. “We’ll be fine, Sarah,” she said. “We won’t get hurt. It’s just a small power outage.”

“I dunno, boss,” Z said, looking around. “The backup should have kicked in by now, and there’s not even any ambient humming. We might get stuck down here until the power comes back in.”

His words set off a new spike of trembling from Sarah, and Fran shot him her most withering glare. “We need to check on the raptors,” she said. “The temperature regulators in their pen might have been thrown off.”

“But it’s dangerous!” Sarah wailed. “They’ll get us!”

“They’ve been pretty unaggressive towards us,” Z supplied. “They’ve never tried to attack us.”

“Z’s right,” Fran said. (Two words that had never uttered her mouth in conjunction until this very moment.) “Besides, they represent an enormous monetary investment—not to mention the pride both of us should feel as scientists. We should at least _check._ ”

Though she still looked scared, Sarah nodded her assent; with her light leading the way, the three of them made their way to the raptors’s room.

Going first, Fran jiggled the handle and grimaced when she saw it was unlocked. With Z readying his dart gun in case one of the raptors tried anything, Fran opened it cautiously.

Nothing.

She carefully stalked inside, weapon at the ready, followed by Z and then Sarah. “No sign of a struggle,” Sarah mused, almost to herself. Her scientific mind was clinically categorizing everything she could see. “No gashes in the walls or on the doors, no sign of forced entry or exit.” She briefly swept her light towards the smaller cages which the raptors bunked in for the night. “Even the cages look undisturbed, and they would have been in there when the power failed.”

“Hold on.” Fran’s brow was narrowing. “Shine back there again.” Sarah complied, and with the light holding on it, they could see that the cages were empty—all four of them.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Fran muttered. “The raptors got out, but there’s no sign of force. Did they just… open the doors normally once the electronic lock was undone? But they can’t be that clever. And they’re definitely not roaming the facility, so they have to be in this room. Why haven’t they shown themselves? Sneakily escaping, waiting for us to show up… it’s almost like they’re setting up—”

She was cut off by a sudden cry behind her and the sound of something being tackled to the floor. Spinning, Fran was able to see Bluebell pinning Z to the ground, the dart gun lying a few paces away from being knocked from his hands. At first Fran feared he’d been hurt—but then he wriggled, grunting, and she realized Bluebell had just winded him, not attacking him seriously.

The female raptor glanced up and Fran almost imagined she wore a devious smile.

“—like they’re setting up an ambush,” Fran finished, horror rising in her.

A rush from the side met her ears. She spun and fired a dart, but the spin threw off her aim—it flew aimlessly over Sunny’s shoulder. The yellow raptor tackled both her and Sarah to the ground, the dart gun flying free and the massive, heavy-duty flashlight knocked from Sarah’s hands to illuminate the whole room.

The two women struggled, but it was fruitless. Sunny was powerful enough to keep them both down. From shadows in the corner of the room, Fran saw Flame unfurl himself, sauntering up to her with what could only be described as a grin. The alpha raptor grabbed Fran’s hands—and even in her panic she had to observe with scholarly fascination that he was strong enough to control her but dexterous enough not to hurt her. Sunny shifted his weight to allow Flame to drag Fran away even as Sunny himself kept Sarah pinned.

Fran gained enough self-control to thrash and shriek, but it was useless against Flame; he was far too strong. He dragged her to the shut door of his cage and threw Fran against the bars, stunning her. While she was winded, she heard a crunching sound, and realized with shock that Flame had twisted an errant piece of metal (one he must have snuck away and covertly hidden for this very purpose) around her hands, clasping her to the shut cage door in a half-sitting, half-standing position and leaving her unable to move.

Fran’s mouth dried as she realized that the raptors had been planning this for a while, waiting for a moment like the blackout to seize their chance.

Pinky had emerged, the last of the raptors to show themselves, and was nosing at Z, who was still pinned by Bluebell. Z was struggling uselessly, and Pinky seemed entertained by his labors. A few paces away, Sarah had a complete deer-in-the-headlights kind of look, not even resisting. She was staring at Sunny, whimpering all the while.

Fran blinked. Wait. The reason Sarah was whimpering wasn’t just because of Sunny. It was hard to see from her angle, but the yellow raptor was sporting an _erection;_ he was eying Sarah with undisguised interest.

Turning her attention back to Z, Fran saw that the dinos had flipped him face-up. He was struggling against their grasp—struggling and moaning. Pinky had shredded his pants and was licking his balls amorously, chittering with delight as Bluebell looked on, intrigued.

“No,” Fran whispered in shock. “No, no.” She had noticed that the raptors had their favorites, they all had—but she had never guessed that their interest was _sexual_ in nature. Who could have guessed that the raptors would be attracted to humans?

Z was Pinky’s favorite. Sarah was Sunny’s.

And with a sinking feeling, she recollected that she herself was Flame’s.

A surprisingly gentle touch jolted her back to reality. She blinked; Flame was taking one of his claws and, with incredible precision, was shredding a line down her clothes without ever touching her skin, peeling off all her layers and leaving her completely unharmed. She wriggled but was held in place by the metal twisted about her wrists, and she gasped when he exposed her pussy.

Flame’s cock was already at attention, and he rumbled with delight at the sight of Fran’s womanhood. Beyond him, Fran could see Pinky was still giving Z her attention while Bluebell stopped him from struggling; Sunny had shredded off Sarah’s clothes, and while he had not penetrated her yet, he was leaning over her and sawing his cock back and forth along her outer lips, rubbing her tenderly and making her shudder even as she continued whimpering.

As Flame closed in, his cock thick and erect, Fran recollected that she had considered it unusual that the alpha male of the pack had never claimed a mate—never even _tried_ mating with Pinky or Bluebell. Only now, as he prepared to claim her, did she realize: he’d had a first choice all along, and he had waited patiently for this moment.

Their ordeal was only beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! [Check me out on Twitter,](https://twitter.com/FestivalGrey) if you'd like :>


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which one of our dinos makes its move, and a hapless intern gets caught up in the moment... warning for dubcon and aphrodisiacs!

Bluebell’s pussy was heaven.

Z moaned, pinned by the raptor and not even caring, the alpha female squatting over him and showing off her slit to her onetime captor. Z ate her out, licking furiously, burying his face in her cunt. It was incredible, overstimulating, already better than the best sex he’d ever had. He could feel his cock growing, unconstrained by his pants since Pinky had shredded them; he felt the warm wetness of a mouth against his cock and he thrust up, groaning. That _had_ to be Pinky.

Bluebell’s pussy washed over him, the scent heady and forceful, sharp and musky and encompassing. It was enveloping his mind. As Z slurped at her pussy, tongue dipping into her folds, she crooned and he was rewarded with even more of the numbness. It was like the sensation of a leg falling asleep, but for his thoughts… somewhere amidst the dimming clarity, he recalled observing that Bluebell’s pussy juices had a curious effect on the other raptors. Fran had supposed that they might be aphrodisiac—addictive, perhaps even psychoactive. An unintended side effect of the genetic manipulations.

It seemed to hit mammals harder.

As he was swallowed by the sensations of Bluebell’s cunt and Pinky’s attention, the psychoactive effects of Bluebell’s pussy intensified, and he started to hallucinate, reliving memories as if he was _there_ again.

It had been a little under two years prior. The first attempt at recreating raptors had failed, and everyone had been in a despairing mood, especially Fran. For Z, heading home early, the only thing to look forward to was more time spent with his girlfriend, Rebecca.

When he got home, he heard sounds—sounds of passionate moaning. He knew that voice.

Creeping to his and Rebecca’s shared bedroom, he spied her arms clasped tight around a man from his neighborhood he barely knew, the two of them moaning in unison. “ _Such_ a bigger cock than his,” Rebecca moaned as Z’s neighbor sunk into her, making her quiver and clutch his bare back so tight that her fingernails left angry red streaks on his skin. “Fuck, and you’re lasting longer too—he’s gone so much, you’d at least think he’d make up for it by being a good lay—”

The sight had ruined him.

He was not a brute, the sort of person to angrily or violently confront even a betrayal like this. He left as quietly as he came, wandering the streets until he broke down, crying in an alley behind a nearby grocer. The person who found him was Sarah.

She told him that she’d seen how harsh he’d taken the project’s failure and had followed him home just to make sure he was going to be alright. She too had observed what was happening with Rebecca. Offering to put him up for a few days until he found a cheap studio apartment, he accepted. That night he broke up with Rebecca over text. When she asked why, he just replied “I’m gone too much and not even a good lay, apparently.”

She’d blocked him after that.

He’d thrown himself into his work with renewed vigor, doing his best (despite Fran’s scoldings) to help make some raptors. Their next attempt had succeeded, and the four they made quickly matured, as designed, and the pink female always seemed to have eyes for him…

And how stupid _was_ he, to not notice that Sarah had been the same? She’d been the only reason he’d bounced back so quick after Rebecca’s cheating.

A lick to his cock made him groan and shook him out of memory. Bluebell was gone, probably to investigate one of the other raptor/human pairings; now it was just Pinky, still keeping him pinned and slurping his cock.

He sniffed and realized he was crying again. The memory had been just too real.

Pinky looked at him with concern, stopping her attentions and shifting awkwardly—and then the pink dino reached over cautiously with one claw and with surprising delicateness wiped the tear away. She cocked her head and chirped.

Z groaned. Bluebell might have been gone, but _fuck_ if he wasn’t still horny. Pinky clearly wanted him, had _always_ wanted him, that much was clear. And maybe it was the sudden sharpness of remembering Rebecca’s betrayal or the lingering effects of Bluebell’s fluids, but he found the idea of fucking her surprisingly enticing.

“Pinky,” he said, his voice low and lustful, “do you want to make me happy?” Despite her pinning weight, he was able to thrust his hips up high, rubbing his erection against her—and if she didn’t understand his words, she definitely got the memo from the gesture.

Chirruping gladly, Pinky dipped down, rubbing her pussy lips against his cock, making them both gasp with stimulation, before she released her pressure. Almost mechanically, Z got up, guided by lust, and grabbed her tail. Hoisting it up, he slammed home into her, making her squeal with delight. Oblivious to what else was going on in the enclosure (indeed, Bluebell’s aphrodisiac had all but erased the predicaments of Fran and Sarah from his mind) Z just furiously rutted into Pinky over and over, glad to finally have a willing partner, rewarded by her happy squeals as her long held dream finally came true. Z grunted incredulously as Pinky’s walls outright _massaged_ his cock, a sexual quirk of hers not unlike Bluebell’s unique fluids. Z was happy to go for a bit, his mind still joyously fuzzy, until he hitched out of her.

Pinky chirped in dismay, but Z merely leaned against a small nearby hill, the grasses dark in the power outage, and murmured for Pinky to take charge. Even if she didn’t get his words, his body language held true. She pinned him again, Z not minding this time around, and rode his cock with the excited energy only a wild creature could produce. Z leaned back, mind reeling and happily hazy; Bluebell’s effects on him were like taking shrooms and Viagra at the same time. He couldn’t think straight and he was horny as hell.

He came quickly from Pinky’s attentions and the female raptor beamed with pride, continuing to ride him, using him to stroke her own inner recesses. When she finally came, it was with a buoyant chirp, squirting all over Z’s hips and the grass inside the enclosure. Z leaned back, murmuring something incoherent, his eyes heavy, as Pinky slowly slipped off of him, cuddling close to the human she had spent her whole life pining after and happily drifting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like. Don't be afraid to comment! I live for them :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of the saga! While Pinky is having fun with Z, Sarah is receiving some attention of her own...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like? [Check me out on Twitter if you're interested!](https://twitter.com/FestivalGrey)

Sarah was scared—no, beyond scared. She was downright paralyzed.

She was completely at Sunny’s mercy.

The marigold-hued raptor wasn’t the alpha of his pack; that honor went to the crafty Flame. But he was large, impressively so, more than capable of holding her down on his own. His cock was erect and ready to go, and he rumbled with delight as he prepared himself.

He hadn’t taken her—not yet. At the moment, he was sawing his hips back and forth, his cock rubbing and stimulating Sarah’s outermost folds. She shuddered, teeth chattering as the dino’s touch sent tender sensations tapdancing up her spine. Sarah was a virgin—she hadn’t even experimented with herself, not really. She was completely unprepared for these new feelings and they threatened to overwhelm her.

But the pleasure itself wasn’t sufficient enough to chase away her fear. She was trapped there, pinned under Sunny, heart hammering a mile a minute as she sucked in breath and moaned against his touch.

But despite the fact that he could completely have her if he wished, he was hesitating. Amidst her fear and distress, Sarah’s scientist mind still worked. _Why isn’t he taking me?_ she thought. She had always known that she was Sunny’s favorite, though she hadn’t realized until today how… carnal his affections truly were. Now that he had her, what was his hesitation?

Sunny was leaning over her and sniffing her. _Ah,_ she thought, _he can smell my fear… my distress… is that it?_

She didn’t want to project too much onto him—that was a mistake that many biologists made with animals. But considering the craftiness on display from the raptors, was it really so much of a stretch to think that Sunny wanted his favorite to enjoy this as much as he did?

Apparently coming to a decision, Sunny raised his head and let of a series of trilling cries. In answer, another raptor approached from behind. Twisting her head as much as her position would allow, Sarah saw that the newcomer was Bluebell—and beyond, she recognized that Pinky was having her way with Z. The sight made her feel uneasy; _she_ had wanted Z, but she’d been too shy to ever approach him after his shitty ex had cheated on him.

The more she looked, the more Sarah realized Z looked completely out of it…

Bluebell loomed over her, looking pleased, and positioned her wet cunt right over Sarah’s face. Sarah’s breathing tightened. She knew why Z looked so befuddled, and also why Sunny had invited Bluebell over here… the effects that Bluebell’s juices had on mammals, of course.

“Wait, hold—” Sarah began, but the alpha female apparently took sound as an invitation to begin and squatted right down on her face.

“Hmmmmnghl! Mmgh! Mrrrgl…”

Sarah’s entire world was quickly encompassed by Bluebell’s pussy, and if she wanted air and solace, she had no choice but to participate. Despite not being particularly into girls, she licked tentatively at Bluebell’s muff. The raptor cooed appreciatively and wriggled her hips against Sarah’s face, and Sarah picked up her pace… before long, she was enthusiastically lapping at Bluebell, her tongue dancing across the raptor’s folds and dipping into her tunnel. Bluebell warbled a wordless song in appreciation, and Sunny, perceiving the increase in mood from both females, responded by picking up his pace, still sawing against Sarah’s outer folds without going inside. His touch was compounded by Bluebell’s juices, and the scientist started writhing at it.

Bluebell’s pussy juices were having a curious effect on Sarah, one that her delirious brain was trying to categorize. It was like laughing gas at the dentist…

She tumbled mentally in the pleasantly woozy feeling, barely cogent of when Bluebell had left them or that Sunny was gently dragging her across the enclosure to take her to a higher place.

“Mm?” she slurred, still delirious from Bluebell’s juices as Sunny loomed over her again. With a low chitter, the raptor stroked the outside of her thigh. She gasped and squirmed at the touch. It was so tender, so _enticing_ —and with Bluebell’s fluids working their magic, there were no hangups to try and hold her back.

“Ohhhhhh,” she trilled. She was a virgin—but she wasn’t a prude. She _wanted_ to get fucked, always had, she had just been so cripplingly shy…

She’d pined for Z from afar, hoping that he was the one, but… maybe it was just the lowered inhibitions, but the way Sunny looked at her didn’t seem too bad. “Fuck, alright then,” she said, words stumbling over themselves. “Go ahead.”

And whether he understood her words or, more likely, could tell from her voice and scent that the fear had gone away, Sunny was ready. He lined up and slowly pushed inside.

Even just the presence of his _tip_ was enough to drive Sarah wild. Her voice broke and her pupils narrowed to the point of pinpricks and she strained uselessly under his weight. Sunny was bigger than the other raptors and had the equipment to match. He far outshone anything even the biggest human had to offer—his equipment was more like a specialty sex toy.

But Sunny knew to go slow. He pushed in more and more, taking it delectably slow, giving Sarah time and space to acclimate to the presence of such hugeness inside of her. She was left a quivering, moaning mess as he pushed inside.

“I—oh, I…”

Even amidst the overwhelming sensation of Bluebell’s effect on her mental state, Sarah was still cogent of Sunny’s cock; the sheer _presence_ of it in her was impossible to ignore. She could feel it spreading her apart, was vaguely aware of her pussy fluttering uselessly about it. Clenching down on such a massive member was almost pointless but her body did it anyway, squeezing and squeezing and driving her to distraction from the whole experience.

On some level it felt as if she should have some pain from it—it was her first time, after all, and the raptor’s cock was positively huge. But Bluebell’s effects chased it away to a distant, numb dullness, meaning that all she had left was the pleasure.

There was a sense of pressure as Sunny met her hymen, and the raptor pushed slowly through it, making her quiver and shudder as she gave. The two of them both held in the moment, Sarah’s breaths shallow—and then Sunny really started going at her.

He went harsh and fast, uncompromising, completely ravaging Sarah’s pussy—and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her voice lilted high as she felt Sunny’s commanding presence inside of her, her eyes rolling in bliss as she clenched fruitlessly around him and was rewarded by a symphony of sexual bliss.

She was quickly starting to wonder why she had waited so long to get fucked.

Though Sunny still kept her pinned, it was unnecessary at this point. Sarah wasn’t going anywhere; in fact, she pushed back against him as best she could, wriggling her hips and moaning when her pussy kissed up against his loins.

During one particularly harsh thrust from Sunny, she pressed up against him and his scales stroked her clit, and that was that.

Orgasm erupted through Sarah’s entire being. Her voice rose high, higher—she didn’t care who heard, not Sunny, not the other raptors, not Fran or Z. She was being fucked by a dinosaur and it had wrung an orgasm from her and dammit, _dammit,_ it was the best thing she’d ever felt in her _life,_ and she was left panting and cumming on the hilltop where Sunny had dragged her as the raptor plundered her innermost depths, squeezing every last drop of bliss from her she could and making her vision swim even in the midst of her orgasm.

Eventually, Sunny came too. He slammed home, his cock thundering into her and spreading her as wide as she could go, and then he was cumming—cumming—

And he wasn’t stopping.

That’s right… each of the raptors had a sexual quirk. Pinky was a nymphomaniac, Bluebell had those hypnotic juices, and Sunny… Sunny was _extremely_ productive.

Raptor cum _gushed_ into Sarah, filling her up. Her voice rose higher and higher and then ultimately tapered off as she was unable to do anything but lay, wide-eyed, and take it as Sunny flooded her.

The cum just wasn’t _stopping,_ and before long she felt packed—but his cock was so big, so large that it acted as a plug, stopping cum from seeping out, and so the only thing Sarah’s body could do was accept more of it. Her mind reeled as she started plumping up from so much cum, her tummy bloating and rounding out, ripening like a berry. When Sunny was finally finished he half collapsed against her, trilling good-naturedly, and Sarah held him close with one arm in a caress. The other arm reached down and stroked her taut, round belly. She almost looked as if she’d had a go at a particularly huge buffet. Even in her haze, Sarah vaguely recollected something she and the others had observed about Sunny’s sperm… mixed inside the fluid were tiny small things, almost like miniature pearls. Had he filled her with the same material?

Sunny eyed her happily, glad that his chosen partner had accepted all his cum. He was still locked inside of her, so very little was seeping out. The two of them just rested there, Sarah round from the gift he gave her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the first arc of this tale closes! I have it on good authority there will be more, however. Content warning for noncon and some light physical harm.

Fran moaned as Flame sawed back and forth, his cock stroking her outer labia, teasing and stimulating her relentlessly. Flame’s cock was unlike that of the usual reptile; just as the introduction of mammalian traits had bestowed the raptors with both their intellects and their pact structure, his altered heritage also showed through in his cock. It was not quite as big as Sunny’s, but was ribbed with soft spines and spikes; it even boasted a canine knot.

Flame was no nymphomaniac like Pinky, eager to rush the main event. In fact, he’d never even claimed either of the females, though Pinky in particular had tried to get him to. Flame was calculating, patient, and _very_ choosy. He had settled early on Fran as his desired mate of choice; now that he had her, he was going to _enjoy_ it.

The first thing to do was to show her just how little power she and her fellow humans had once they were at the raptors’ mercy. Plying his deceptive strength against her, Flame maneuvered Fran so that she had no choice but to watch her compatriots succumb to the ravages of his packmates. She cried out in dismay as Z was the first to go, slipping into horniness with Bluebell’s help and ending up a silly-minded fuckpet of Pinky. Then Bluebell wandered over to help Sunny and before long Sarah, too, was little more than a raptor slut, squealing delightedly as she was taken over and over again.

Pure defeat sunk into Fran— _she_ was in charge of the lab. Z and Sarah’s safety was _her_ responsibility, and she’d failed them. She bit her lip, fighting off arousal as Flame continued sawing slowly back and forth against her outer lips. His spines and barbs stroked her in a way no human or even a human-made toy could have met. She started shuddering despite herself, her body betraying her to lust.

With Sarah firmly in Sunny’s clutches, Bluebell started wandering towards the remaining two. Fran sobbed and even screamed, thrashing despite being completely held by the metal bar. No—no, no, no, _no!_ She had seen what Bluebell had done to Z and Sarah—she didn’t want to get drugged into a state of being a raptor’s love slave!

But Bluebell was turned aside by a snarl from Flame. _He_ was the alpha, _he_ was in charge. Maybe Pinky and Sunny needed help to tame their paramours, but he didn’t. He was going to break this human all on his own, reduce her from his captor to his mate and breeder. It was his right as alpha.

Bluebell shrugged and walked away. Noticing that the enclosure door was open, she decided to leave their packmates to their debauchery and slipped out to explore the facility.

Fran kept fighting back, thrashing and kicking. Her voice rose in a scream—for the raptors to leave her co-workers alone, for Sarah and Z to help her, but it was completely fruitless. Flame withdrew his cock from her outer folds and regarded her smugly. He was going to enjoy breaking in such willfulness—in fact, her vitriol itself was proof that the process had already begun.

In a last act of desperation, Fran spat at Flame. The dino regarded her for a moment before wiping it off with what could have only been regarded as a smirk. She was running out of options if reduced to _that._

Flame was not quite as intelligent as Bluebell, but he was still plenty smart, and perhaps a bit more cunning. He’d paid attention to the interactions between the humans before and had seen his desired mate berate and humiliate the male, Z, whenever he made mistakes. Z had emerged from these encounters chastised and obedient.

It made sense. Flame himself had been forced to discipline Pinky after she got out of order a few times. It was how you kept your lesser beings in line. If this human was to be convinced to submit to him as a breeder, perhaps she had to be treated the same way.

Flame wandered over to a patch of disturbed dirt, and Fran spewed obscenities after him. “You sick bastard!” she screamed, her voice raw with anger. She was doing her best _not_ to look at the shapes from the corner of her eyes, to see the loopy and confused Sarah getting pumped so fully with Sunny’s seed that she started to swell up, to see Z curled up against Pinky like a lover. “I should have smashed your test tube! You’re a genetic aberrant, you hear me? A _freak!_ ”

Her taunts had little effect on Flame; the raptors were smart and understood the general tone of human voice—Flame knew (and relished in) Fran’s anger, for instance—but other than their names and a few other key words, like ‘food,’ they didn’t understand vocabulary.

Spurred on by his captive’s feistiness, Flame dug in the patch of earth, the same place he’d stored the metal bar now keeping Fran captive. From it he unearthed another treasure: a length of wire cable. Fran’s venom tongue stilled at it. First the bar, and now this… how had the raptors managed to obtain these things and hide them all this time? They were far craftier than any of the scientists had suspected.

As Flame returned, Fran swallowed her fear and resumed her taunts. And though he had no clue as to the content of her message, the mood behind it was clear—and as alpha, Flame had to make it clear that defiance would not be tolerated.

Using his claws on his would-be mate was no option; humans were soft and vulnerable. So instead, he gripped the cable with surprising dexterity and whipped it across Fran’s breast.

Her voice hissed out of her in a squeal as the cable left an angry red trail on her breast. “You,” she said, gritting her teeth, “you _fucker—_ nnnnnghaaaah!” Flame did it again, hitting her side this time. He couldn’t swing hard enough to break the skin, nor did he want to, but he left a series of red welts across a speckling of places: her stomach, her knee, her collarbone, her forearm. Fran gasped, all words driven from her, tears beading in her eyes with each lash—and then, against her will, she felt it.

Oh, fuck, why was she _into_ this?

She’d never been one to let it consume her life, but she’d played around in the BDSM scene from time to time and knew that she liked getting whipped. And just as before, though her mind revolted against the thought of laying with Flame, her body knew what it liked.

Moaning despite herself, her cunt started to get wet.

Flame picked up on the scent immediately. Dropping the cable, he dipped low, his nose pushing against Fran’s pussy. “No,” she moaned, squirming her lower body in a pathetic attempt to dislodge him. “Don’t…”

But Flame didn’t care. Taking a whiff, he delighted in the smell confirming what he’d suspected: this female was at the fertile time of her life. She was ready to be _bred._

To make sure, Flame had to taste some of the fluid. So, he dipped his tongue inside. The suddenness of the intrusion made Fran’s voice soar; her cheeks burned red as a dinosaur _ate her out,_ its long tongue lapping the interior of her cunt. And she… oh fuck. Sobbing, Fran had to admit to herself that she actually kind of _liked_ this. The lingering burn from the lashing and the blooming bliss from Flame’s tongue commingled in a dual dance that set her whole body alight.

Flame’s taste receptors confirmed: she was fertile and would make for a good breeder. He was fortunate; a few days more and she would not be receptive to his seed. The knowledge that he’d finally get to claim his much-desired mate left him harder than ever, and with a sibilant hiss, Flame decided that the time for foreplay had ended.

At some point, Fran had stopping fighting it and had just stayed there, sniffling and whimpering, as Flame ate her out. Later she would insist that it had only been because she’d realized how pointless fighting back was—but what went unsaid was how much she liked it.

Flame was no fool. Plucking his snout from her pussy, he grinned at her soft compliance. Straddling her, he aimed his barbed cock right at Fran’s pussy; she stared down fearfully, tears in her eyes, but didn’t resist.

Flame almost purred at that. She was acting like a good little bitch.

He sunk home, his cock slipping in snugly thanks to how wet she already was, and Fran gasped, her vision haloing. If she’d thought those spines and barbs had stimulated before, having them _inside_ was almost too much. They nudged and bit at her sensitive inner walls, stroking places she never knew she had, and she shuddered and clenched despite herself.

But he was a beast of control. He took her _slowly,_ luxuriously, enjoying every push and pull. This had been a fantasy of his for as long as he’d wanted sex, and there was no reason to rush things. But for Fran, the slow pace was maddening. She—she—fuck, she hated telling herself this, but she just wanted Flame to _fuck_ her, to take and ravage her.

At one point, when Flame slid so far out of her that only his tip—narrow and pointed at the end, to help squeeze seed past a female’s most intimate barrier—rested inside, Fran, without thinking, begged him to come back into her.

Flame didn’t understand the words, but he knew from the timbre of her voice that he had succeeded.

He’d broken her. She was his, now; his to fuck, to impregnate, his to fill with children and use for pleasure. He’d taken her and made her his, and unlike Sunny and Pinky, he hadn’t needed Bluebell to do it.

With that spurring him on, he started picking up his pace. He ravaged her cunt, railing into her again and again. A pleasurable haze consumed Fran’s mind; without thinking, the scientist tried pushing her loins up to meet him, trying to wring a bit more enjoyment out of Flame’s cock. She squeezed and clenched around him and trembled from the sensation of his spines inside of her pressing into her wall. She wanted desperately to reach down and clutch Flame to her, but her hands were still immobilized thanks to the metal bar; instead, she maneuvered her legs around him, pulling him in that way. Rumbling with excitement, happy his new mate was warming up to it, Flame let her push in closer, even grabbing her hips with his claws, displaying surprising tenderness.

Fran was going in and out of lucidity from the sheer overwhelming ecstasy of getting fucked by Flame, her mind barely capable of marshaling itself through the pleasure. She gasped and cooed and moaned as he fucked faster, deeper, completely surrendering to the sensations. Eventually Flame plunged in and she grunted as she felt a brief, lancing bite somewhere deep inside, but even that morphed into more bliss.

The bite was Flame piercing her cervix. Now he had the most intimate access he could want, and he grunted, succumbing to orgasm as he jetted right inside of her. His cum splashed into Fran, and although on some level she hated the fact that she was taking dino seed, that Flame had managed to force himself this far, the sensation was so exhilarating to the rest of her body that she stopped caring, surrendering to orgasm as well—one that swept over her even more as Flame’s knot spread, tying them together and leaving her plugged full.

As she succumbed into blissful unconsciousness, Flame rumbled with delight, still jetting waves of seed into her. The scent of his mate’s fertility had kicked him into overdrive; his body had devoted everything to giving Fran his seed.

He could just imagine it now, this proud, intelligent human laboring under the weight of his young, forced to waddle along with a heavy clutch. He grinned. He’d waited so long for this, and now it was here.

All around them, the night was finally coming to a close. Z had spent a long time with Pinky lavishing over his cock; Sarah was stuffed so full of cum that she looked almost pregnant; and Fran, still tied up with the metal, was pumped full of Flame’s cum. All three humans had succumbed to stupor after being thoroughly fucked by the raptors.

As Flame’s knot deflated, he popped free of Fran with a grunt, the action making her shudder as she oozed dino cum out of her pussy. With a snarled command, Sunny and Pinky reluctantly left their humans to come see him, Sarah moaning as Sunny slipped out of her.

As the three raptors convened, they wondered—where was Bluebell?

In fact, the smartest of their bunch was staring awestruck. She’d stalked through the halls, memorizing pathways as she went, and soon enough, she found it.

The exit to the building.

Testing it, she found it completely unlocked. Deducing the mechanism’s method, she poked her head outside—and was utterly floored.

The raptors had spent their whole lives in the facility and had dreamed small dreams because of it. But on seeing the vast expanse surrounding them, Bluebell immediately realized the world was much bigger than any of them had suspected.

She felt quite certain that humans would call the shots outside just as they had done inside—but that meant nothing. Her kind had already proved they could outwit the humans if need be. And just look at the size of this world… there were so many potential adventures to have, so many places to explore.

So many mates they could claim.

Chittering to herself with delight, Bluebell turned and rushed back to the others. Flame would want to hear about this.

This night was far from the realization of their ambitions—if anything, it was the _beginning._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! No sex in this one, but still NSFW due to frank discussion of what befell our poor scientists... >:3c

One and all, the raptors were astonished. There was more? _More?_ They had been skeptical of Bluebell at first, disbelieving the indigo female’s eager attempts to show them something which would change their world wholly and entirely. But upon seeing her work the mechanism and then taking in the enormity of the world outside, each of them knew:

It didn’t matter whether the humans they had chosen as their mates stuck around inside or not. What they needed was to go _free._ This was impressed upon them indelibly by their instincts; their drive to break out of the enclosure seemed but a prelude now that they had a whole _world_ to work with. And that was far from the only instinct spurring them on. They were urged to claim mates as well, each of them.

Mates…

Flame thought back to _his_ chosen mate. The human had been so delicious to break; hearing her voice waver as he’d fucked into her, feeling her cunt betray itself and clench down as his spines had stroked her inner walls, that had been true loveliness.

But if he was going to lead his pack to the world outside, what would that mean for her? He’d lashed her to the cage with that twisted bar, but that was when he’d not known the world as anything more than halls, enclosures, and humming lights. If she was to remain healthy as she inevitably swelled, she couldn’t remain like that.

As the alpha turned to stalk back into the halls, he impressed upon his pack the need to hunt down supplies. This would likely be their last time in their old confines. The other three happily moved to ransack the facility, claiming their former captors’ goods as their own.

For his part, Flame returned to his old enclosure. Strange… even just this morning he had been satisfied, more or less, with it, but now the world outside this lab made it seem so small. He trotted back over to the woman he’d claimed, passing by the other female—her tummy still distended from the sheer volume Sunny had pumped into her, though that was slowly diminishing as his seed trickled out of her—and the sprawled male who was at the bottom of the humans’ hierarchy. Both had been fucked into unconsciousness.

Fran was slumped against the cage, held up by her hands. She was still naked, clad in nothing but red welts. The closer he got, the more certain he was. _His_ sexual quirk was an extremely potent seed… it would act fast. He could already smell the changes in her chemistry.

He had no doubt she would carry his young to term.

Deftly reaching up, he untwisted the metal and Fran slumped over with a groan, stirring but not waking. Regarding her for a moment, Flame considered taking her again—but then decided against it. He leaned over and lapped a long stripe along her back, the compound he secreted deterring any potential predators from her.

By the time he returned, the other raptors had raided the humans’ food stores. Bluebell had found a jar of their favorite treats, cranberries, and was managing to work how to unscrew it. They gorged themselves on the foods, saving some for the alpha, and Flame gratefully chomped down the berries. With their aromatic sweetness lending them strength, they finally stepped outside.

The sun had not yet risen, but it was close to dawn. The sky burned amber, the light—real, _natural_ light—filtering down onto the raptors for the first time. They regarded it with awe. This was… a whole new world, a new experience. They stood together as a pack, feeling anxious, waiting for the world to throw something unexpected at them, to try to break them in—but it didn’t, and slowly anxiousness bled into confidence. As one, they began to stalk about their exciting new world.

\---

Nellis was just finishing up his coffee—what cup was he on again?—when the timer beeped. Time for his last patrol of the day. He rose with a groan, feeling the creak in his old bones. None of the crew had left—another all-nighter, it seemed. It wasn’t out-of-character for them, but he always made a point to check up on them come morning and see if any needed a drive home. He trotted out into the compound as dawn broke, Bells, his trusty German Shepherd, trotting at his heels.

Something was… different about the compound, he thought. Something he couldn’t place. He was tense, on edge; Bells could sense it too.

When he got to the door, he was astonished to find it open. But none of the crew had left… had they? “Stay here, girl,” he ordered, and Bells barked once, dutifully guarding the entryway. Then Nellis hobbled in.

Once inside, he could tell something had happened. There were signs of a struggle… he pressed in deeper until he came upon an indoor enclosure.

What he saw astonished him. Each of the three scientists were there in the enclosure, and they were all unconscious and naked. His nose wrinkled. The place, it _reeked_ of sex— _recent_ sex—but the smell was… off, somehow. Unfamiliar.

Well, his duty was to help.

He hobbled over to Z, trying to shake the young man awake. He groaned and was incoherent but didn’t seem hurt except for a few scrapes. Nellis glanced at the ladies, apologizing mentally for seeing their nudeness (he at least _tried_ to be a gentleman, after all). Sarah was in much the same state as Z, though her stomach was sliiiiightly bloated as if she’d just eaten a lot of food. Fran was a bit worse, with what looked like welts on her body and some serious bruising around her wrists, but still no alarming damage.

Though he was trying to preserve their dignity, it hadn’t escaped Nellis that both women had cum caked around their loins which definitely didn’t seem to be theirs. Nellis immediately dismissed Z as the culprit; judging from his pulse, he seemed to have been the _first_ to pass out. But then who…?

Nellis shook his head. He lifted Z with a grunt, took him to the medical station, then grabbed blankets for the ladies and took them back. He took Fran in next, then went back for Sarah, noting clinically as he hefted her that her belly had resumed its normal size.

When he took Sarah into the medical station, Z was still out—but Fran had regained consciousness.

She was crying, face in her hands.

Nellis set down Sarah and tried to converse, but she was inconsolable, in the middle of what might have been a panic attack. Fragments emerged from her mouth: “Z and Sarah, my fault—never should have—why did it feel _good_ —they completely got us—escaped—”

“Who are ‘they’?” Nellis pressed. “Who escaped? What did this to you?”

Hiccupping through her tears, Fran looked up at him. “Raptors, Nellis! We engineered them to be intelligent, and they turned on us and—and they—”

He breathed out. He’d known they were doing _some_ genetic thing, though he’d been smart enough not to ask for details. He’d have expected predators to go on the hunt, but it seemed their goals had been more carnal than carnivorous.

“Where are they now?” he said, wishing desperately he was better armed.

“They escaped, Nellis,” Fran whispered. “They escaped.”

\---

Near the entryway, Bells stood sentinel. She was a good dog. Loyal, courageous, clever. Her master had instructed her to guard this place, so she would.

But she was only one creature, in the end. And though she could sense _something_ was amiss, she had no idea that beasts from beyond her epoch were eying her. The raptors recognized her as a potential threat—but thanks to their canine programming and Bells’s own pheromones (for Nellis had not yet had her fixed; he wanted puppies) they also recognized her as something else entirely:

A potential _mate_.

They were bigger than her, smarter than her, and they had far more numbers. Bells didn’t know it yet, but she was about to be bred full of something far more exotic than puppies.


End file.
